Promises After Dark (After Dark Book 3) (10 page)

I remember his final words to me that morning: ‘Don’t forget, Beth, you need to cut your ties with Dubrovski, right away. Tell Mark you can’t deal with him any more.’

I know that Dominic needs that reassurance before he can truly commit again.

But how can I do that without destroying Mark?

By lunchtime I’m back in London. I can hardly believe that this time yesterday morning I had no idea where Dominic was. Now I can still feel the pressure of his mouth on mine and the stiffness in my limbs from all of our physical activity. I try to subdue the voice in the back of my mind that’s asking me exactly what footing our relationship is on, and how I’m going to manage to get Andrei out of my life. I need to think about my work after my unauthorised absence.

From St Pancras I head home and get changed, then go to Mark’s house. By the time I arrive, it’s mid-afternoon and Caroline is on her way out.

‘Oh hello, Beth, dear,’ she says, pulling on orange knitted gloves. ‘I’m just going off to visit Mark.’

‘Are you? Can I come? I’d love to see him.’

She looks at me for a moment and says, ‘Why not? I’m sure you’ll cheer him up and I’d like the company. No matter how comfortable a hospital is, there’s always something depressing about it, isn’t there?’

She flings her arm up in the air and a taxi pulls obediently out of the traffic and stops at the kerb for us. ‘The Princess Charlotte Hospital, please, driver!’ she cries and opens the cab door. We both climb in and settle ourselves, and then we’re off, heading towards Kensington.

‘Have you been keeping busy, Beth?’ Caroline enquires, tucking her coat around her barrel-shaped body.

I nod. ‘I’ll tell Mark all about it.’

‘I don’t want him worried about work though,’ she says quickly. ‘He’s doing well and is much more cheerful than yesterday but he mustn’t have any setbacks.’

‘I understand.’ Just then I feel my phone vibrate with an incoming text. I take it out of my pocket and check it. It’s a text from Dominic’s new number.

I want to see Rosa again. She fucked me very beautifully.

My stomach performs a lazy somersault inside me and I have a flashback to Dominic’s orgasm. It makes me gasp.

‘Are you all right?’ enquires Caroline. ‘Not bad news I hope.’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I say. I text back.

Rosa wants to see you. She wants to obey. When will it be possible?

The answer comes back almost at once.

Soon. Tell Rosa I am a loving master if she is a willing and obedient maid.

I’m tingling with arousal as I read it, remembering Rosa’s punishment yesterday and the way Dominic’s hot palm caressed my bottom and then slid down to the wetness of my waiting sex.

Stop it,
I scold myself.
You can’t get all worked up sitting with Caroline in a taxi!

She’s oblivious though, gazing out of the window as we pass expensive shops, their windows glittering with Christmas displays.

We come to a halt outside the private hospital and Caroline settles the fare. We go inside and at once there is that hospital smell, a disinfected citrusy aroma that speaks of sterile surfaces and hand rub. A large Christmas tree sparkles with decorations but the cheerfulness feels forced.

At the reception desk, Caroline signs us both in and leads the way to Mark’s room. I’m not sure what to expect as we go in and I feel nervous. This isn’t the kind of place I would associate with Mark. He’s so elegant and well turned out, how can he be anything but out of place in a hospital bed, no matter how comfortable?

We reach Mark’s ward and check in with the nurse there, who directs us to wash our hands and apply the alcohol rub. She also shows us how to put white plastic aprons over our clothes and then we’re ready to see Mark.

Caroline leads the way to the door, knocks and opens it. I follow her in. The room is pleasant enough and well furnished, but the armchairs and the television can’t hide its purpose. It’s dominated by a large hospital bed and by the equipment that surrounds it: the drips hanging with bags of fluid, the stands and the machines with their flashing lights and monitors. In the bed Mark looks thin and lost. He’s half sitting up and seems to be drowsing against the nest of white pillows. A line goes from the stand by his bed into the back of his hand where the needle is taped into place. He is heavily bandaged around his neck and his mouth looks swollen. As we come in, his eyes flicker open and he smiles feebly. I’m shocked at how ill and weak he looks, how deflated and tired.

‘Hello, old boy,’ Caroline says, bustling forward to land a kiss on his cheek. ‘How are you? Beth’s come along with me to say hello. She’s been missing you, the poor thing.’

I step forward and smile. ‘Hello, Mark. How are you? Caroline tells me the operation has been a success.’

He nods, then says, ‘Hard to talk’ but it comes out so thick and distorted I can hardly understand.

‘Tongue’s still swollen?’ asks Caroline, lowering herself into a chair by the bed.

Mark nods again.

‘Painful?’

He nods more emphatically. Then he cocks his head towards the drip stand and says, ‘Lovely morphine!’ which I understand perfectly. We all laugh.

He looks over at me and smiles, more with his eyes than his mouth. ‘Everything okay?’ he says in his strange thick new voice. He’s evidently speaking in as a few words as possible but it’s odd. Mark wouldn’t usually use that kind of phrase.

‘Yes, fine.’ I smile again, trying to convey that he doesn’t need to worry.

He says something unintelligible and has to repeat it a couple of times before I realise that he’s saying ‘St Petersburg’.

‘Oh! Yes, the trip.’ It feels like a lifetime ago, not two days. I smile at Mark while wondering what to say. I was going to be completely straight with him and tell him that the painting has been declared a fake but now, seeing how ill he looks, I don’t know if I can do that. He’ll know at once what it means. No matter how the news is managed, there will be a slur on his reputation because Andrei has already told the world that Mark was the man who had authenticated the fake Fra Angelico. I can’t bring myself to do it, not while he’s sitting helpless in a hospital bed.

‘The painting?’ Mark asks.

I nod, still smiling and hoping that I look sincere. ‘Yes, I saw it. They haven’t come to their final conclusions yet, but it’s looking hopeful.’

Is that enough to put Mark’s mind at rest for now? He nods and relaxes back into his pillows, looking pleased.

‘Now, that’s enough work chat,’ Caroline scolds, gesturing to me to sit down. ‘Let’s talk about something else. Beth, are you going home for Christmas?’

We emerge from Mark’s room just under an hour later. He’s enjoyed our company but he’s clearly exhausted when we leave. I come out feeling anxious. Mark is obviously not going to be back on his feet for a long time. How on earth will I keep the truth from him? And should I?

The day is almost over, and I don’t think there’s any point in going back to Belgravia now. I ought to get home and see Laura, who has been sending regular text messages to make sure I’m back okay from Paris, but an email appears on my phone as we’re heading back to the hospital lobby. It’s from James, my friend and one-time employer:

Help! I’m at a work party of Erland’s at the Travellers! I don’t know anyone. Come and have some mulled wine with me and save me if you can . . .

Excellent. That’s what I’ll do. James will have some advice, I’m sure of it.

I arrive at the Travellers Club on Pall Mall about twenty minutes later, having put on some lip gloss in the cab. I’m not exactly dressed for a Christmas party but never mind; I’m not out to impress anyone. I make my way up to the library at the Travellers, where the room is already crowded with people. This is an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club and the ratio of men to women is about ten to one, which I suppose also reflects the fact that tailors like Erland are most often men. I spot James almost at once because he’s so tall and also because he’s standing on his own, staring up at the plaster frieze that runs around the wall by the ceiling.

I go over and stand beside him, also looking up at the classical figures picked out in white against a coral background. ‘Very impressive. Just like the Elgin Marbles but smaller,’ I say and James looks down at me.

‘Beth!’ A smile breaks over his face. ‘Hurray, you’re here!’ He drops a kiss on each of my cheeks. ‘What a treat. And yes, that lovely frieze is a copy of the Elgin Marbles. It might be all we have left if the Greeks get their way. How are you, sweetie? Let me get you a drink. Erland’s having a whale of a time flirting with half of Savile Row. We can amuse ourselves.’

A moment later I’m holding a cup of hot wine heavily scented with cinnamon, cloves and orange, and telling James the latest developments. It’s a relief to get all the happenings in St Petersburg off my chest. He grasps the implications immediately.

‘Oh dear me,’ he says solemnly. ‘Poor Mark. This is bad. It’s very bad.’

‘I haven’t been able to tell him when he’s so ill. It’s the last thing he needs.’

James nods gravely. ‘Absolutely. But he will need to know at some point.’

‘Will he? I know it sounds desperate but perhaps I could persuade Dubrovski to keep it quiet.’

‘Indefinitely?’ James shakes his head. ‘I don’t see how. Unless you’ve got extraordinary powers of persuasion.’ He looks at me with interest, gazing down through the lenses of his little gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Have you got that kind of hold over Andrei Dubrovski? Does this mean our friend Dominic is history?’

‘Of course not,’ I say indignantly. Then, after a moment, I sigh. ‘Oh, James. It’s so complicated.’

‘I’ve no doubt it is. You were convinced Dominic was sleeping with the minxy Anna last time I saw you. Has that been cleared up?’

I nod. ‘She was messing with my head, and Dominic’s head, and trying to come between us. There is one mystery though – I still have no idea how she knew so much about Dominic and me, and all the details of our relationship. Dominic swore he didn’t tell her and I believe him. But I’ve cleared up something else: Anna drugged me that night in the catacombs and it wasn’t Andrei who had sex with me. I’m sure of it.’

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ James says with a smile. ‘I’m glad something’s been made clearer – it generally happens the other way around where you’re concerned.’

‘Yes,’ I say slowly, ‘but Andrei has made it plain he’s still interested in me. He wants me to forget Dominic and be with him.’

‘A lot of girls would jump at the chance,’ James remarks. ‘He’s handsome and extremely rich.’

‘I don’t care about that,’ I reply. ‘I love Dominic and that’s all there is to it, you know that.’

James smiles at me. ‘I do know that. You could no more be with Andrei Dubrovski than with me. You’re a true romantic, aren’t you? Love or nothing.’

‘Absolutely. Love or nothing!’ I smile back at him.

‘So where is the divine Dominic?’

‘He’s working abroad. It’s not going to be easy but I’m sure we’ll work out how we can be together.’

‘You’ll find a way,’ James says comfortingly. ‘You two will always gravitate back to each other, I’m sure of that.’

I sip my mulled wine. It’s not quite as straightforward as I’ve made it sound, but I hope that it soon will be. This time, when Dominic and I are reunited, there will be no way we can be divided.

Chapter Seven

I sleep so deeply that night that I don’t have a single dream. I wake up to my alarm and it feels as though I fell asleep just moments before. The activities of the last few days are certainly telling on me, that’s for sure.

Once I’ve showered and dressed, I join Laura in the kitchen for breakfast, which we usually eat standing up and leaning against the counter while we swap news. Laura looks particularly cheerful and bright-eyed as she munches on her granola.

‘Hey, Miss Impulse! Good to see you. Are you planning to stay in the country today or do you have a quick jaunt to Florence planned? Whizzing to Vienna for the night, perhaps?’

I laugh as I pour out my own granola. ‘No, not today. Maybe next week I’ll fancy it, we’ll see.’

‘Well, actually, you’re not the only one who can decide to make some travel plans.’ Laura nods excitedly to an envelope propped up against the toaster with my name on it. ‘Open it.’

I take up the envelope and examine it. That’s Laura’s handwriting on the front. I rip it open and inside I find a Christmas card.

‘Oh, that’s lovely, Laura, thanks!’ I say, surprised. We don’t usually give each other cards.

‘Open it!’ she insists, impatient.

I open the card and out drops a piece of paper. I pick it up and unfold it. It’s a printout from a website, the confirmation of two flights to New York, leaving on the coming Friday and returning on the Monday

‘It’s the trip we promised ourselves, remember!’ Laura is practically jumping up and down with excitement.